


DYAC

by rivkat



Category: Smallville
Genre: AU, Eight crazy nights, First Times, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-25
Updated: 2011-12-25
Packaged: 2017-10-28 01:54:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/302452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rivkat/pseuds/rivkat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU: they’re still friends in Metropolis.</p>
            </blockquote>





	DYAC

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thefourthvine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefourthvine/gifts).



Clark’s phone buzzed and he saw that Lex had messaged him back. “Sure. I’ll bring the pizza.”

Clark smiled with triumph. He didn’t get nearly enough time with Lex, what with the odd hours of his new job and his side occupation of rescuing people. For his part, Lex had probably rescheduled a couple of important meetings to hang out with Clark, though he’d never admit it.

Lex showed up at eight on the dot, carrying a stack of three pizza boxes. Clark made as if to pull out his wallet to give him a tip, and earned Lex’s smirk of reluctant amusement.

“Pizza first?” Lex asked. “Don’t want it to get cold.”

Clark nodded, though he wasn’t sure what the alternative had been. Lex wasn’t usually a dessert first kind of guy.

They ate their pizzas—Clark’s two, Lex’s one—at Clark’s tiny couch, their knees knocking companiably whenever one of them reached for a drink or a new slice. In between bites, Lex explained his new Asian trading strategy, while Clark told Lex about the amazing playground a neighborhood organization was building on a Suicide Slum block whose buildings had all been demolished by the city a year ago. The story was going to be the first in a series Clark was doing on ‘Taking Our Communities Back.’ Lex made some suggestions about the series and subtly hinted about giving money to the neighborhood organization; Clark pointed out that while outside money solved some problems it generated others, and they debated what ‘empowerment’ ought to mean for a while. As always, Clark ended up more excited than ever about his story, and with a dozen ideas for sidebar commentaries.

At last, the final crust had been consumed, and the final soda drained. Clark leaned back on the couch, legs sprawled in satiation. He grinned up at the ceiling. The pockmarks and stains didn’t make it look like the kind of ceiling under which Lex Luthor spent much time, but Lex was here because of him.

“You look like you’re ready for the next stage of the evening,” Lex said, amused. Even though Clark would’ve been happy to sit and digest for a while, he nodded, because Lex probably needed to eat and run.

Lex’s hand on his crotch was like a Kryptonite-enhanced electrocution, except with red Kryptonite. Clark went from slightly dazed with food to paralyzingly aroused in the time it took Lex’s other hand to pop the button on his jeans and pull down his zipper.

“Lex?” Clark squeaked, sitting up straight just in time to see Lex reach in and pull his hardening dick out of his boxers. Lex shot him a brief, wicked grin, then turned back to his work. His soft pink tongue flicked out, just fluttering around the head of Clark’s dick, already flushing and starting to peek out of the foreskin.

Clark might’ve had the occasional thought, once in a very long while, about—oh, who was he trying to kid? Lex was one of his go-to fantasies; Clark had gotten over the shame a long time ago because it was just another secret and so it didn’t matter. But now, Lex had his _mouth_ , scarred and pink and spit-slick, on Clark and he was going to kill Clark, heart attack no respecter of Kryptonian heritage. Lex wrapped his fist around Clark’s shaft as he tongued the sensitive spot just under the head, his grip getting wetter as spit dribbled out of his mouth. _Lex Luthor_ , going down on him all messy and undignified, grunting like he was dying for it, like Clark was the one doing him a favor.

Somehow, Lex urged Clark to lift up enough to pull his jeans and shorts down, giving Lex more access. When Lex put his mouth back on Clark, he went so far down that he had to breathe in labored pants, and he slipped one hand between Clark’s legs, rolling his balls gently. Clark had developed better control over the years, but he still had to raise his hands to grab his own head for safety’s sake.

When Clark managed to look full-on at Lex, he saw that Lex had his free hand between his own legs, rubbing, and that was it. “Lex--!” he yelled, shooting down Lex’s throat as Lex groaned and swallowed.

Clark’s dick was still hard when Lex pulled off and climbed up him. Lex fumbled with his own belt for a moment, and then Clark lost patience and pulled it apart, the buckle giving way with a screech, and ripped Lex’s pants open. Lex didn’t even pause at this display of strength, just rucked up Clark’s T-shirt with one hand and pulled his cock out, the tip already shining with precome, and jerked himself a few more times before he came all over Clark’s stomach and half-hard dick, which made Clark’s body twitch with renewing arousal.

Clark stared up at Lex—ruined pants slipping off his hips, dress shirt still pristine down to the cufflinks, chest heaving and mouth swollen. “Lex,” he said, and pulled Lex down to kiss him.

Eventually, they had to come up for air (well, Lex did). Clark took the opportunity to straighten his clothes and roll them into a slightly better position: Clark lying back on the sofa and Lex splayed out along him.

“Not that I’m complaining,” he said. Freaking out, yes, but not complaining. “But what brought that on?”

Lex’s lips twitched into his best superior smile. “I was only doing what you asked, Clark.”

Clark goggled at him. “I think I would have remembered propositioning you!” Then he checked his memory—no unexplained gaps, everything pretty much accounted for, so he really didn’t think that a new color of Kryptonite could’ve explained this.

Lex reached for the cellphone he’d left on the side table, rubbing their bodies pleasantly together as he did so. He’d turned the phone off for dinner, which Clark appreciated, though he’d always assumed that someone at LuthorCorp had Clark’s number in cases of direst emergency. Lex tapped until it showed their texts.

He scrolled up, and there it was, Clark’s last message: “Want to come over for pizza and fellatio?”

What the--? “That was supposed to be gelato!” Clark yelped. “I have this fancy stuff from Pepe’s in the freezer!”

Lex shrugged, nearly an undulation. “I figured as much. But you were clearly never going to ask, so—you’re not going to tell me that you’re deeply insulted, are you?”

And while the words were as smoothly confident as ever, there was still the underlying certainty that Lex wasn’t good enough. Clark couldn’t stand to hear it, not now. So he took Lex’s face in his hands, bringing their mouths together. The phone clunked to the floor, forgotten.

When they broke apart, both panting, the upwards twist of Lex’s lips would’ve been a face-splitting grin on anyone else. “You mentioned gelato?”

Not that Clark wasn’t looking forward to dessert, but: “Actually, I might’ve mentioned something else instead.”

“Oh, well, in that case—” Lex said dismissively, but his hands were already tugging at Clark’s boxers. So Clark figured it was all going to be okay.


End file.
